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A friend of mine gifted me a plush of the one and only legendary assassin from universe 6, Hit!!

He looks a little goofy, but I love him for it. It's not as bad as the Jiren plushes we found, which is why we didn't get me one of him

LOOK AT HIM

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Next Frit One-Shot has dropped!

Summary: Hit has his suspicions about Frost's choice in companion during the Tournament of Power.

Posted my third Frit one-shot, guest-starring some unhealthy Frost-sided Frieza/Frost!

The Frit-Freest clash was inspired by art by @justme068 [x]

Also, you might notice I decided to give myself a little writing exercise and try switching to the "ee" spelling of Freeza. Probably not going to switch for good though and your regularly scheduled "ie" spelling should return soon.

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I just wanted to say I loved your first two oneshots of your Frit book! It’s so nice to see some really good and fresh Frit content (I need to write about them more myself, but Freerost brain rot has a stronghold on me lol)

I definitely look forward to seeing future updates! 😊

Aww, thank you so much!! Glad you enjoyed it so far!

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You should write gamma stuff…twirls antenna

Mayhaps, mayhaps~

The ship (if it's a ship fic) I might be most interested in taking on is Gamma 2 x Piccolo, where this one piece of art and its caption had such a profound effect on me that my brain considers "Tax Benefits" to be their ship name.

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Frit One-Shot: Habit

And here we are- the first of many in my new Frit one-shot collection, Fritter Bits. I've decided to cross-post this one to Tumblr and just post updates whenever I drop a new one in the AO3 book. I wanted to wait until I had at least two one-shots to post this, so a second one-shot will be waiting on AO3.

AO3 Link: [x]

TWs: Implied (past) eating disorder (briefly mentioned)

--

Prey usually didn’t fall into the assassin’s maw as easily as Frost had, nor did Hit ever decide to hold the mouse in his teeth without biting down for this long. 

The two’s trails had crossed way too many times to be considered coincidences anymore. Hit opted not to engage, having no reason to without a contract (taking its sweet time to cross his desk), but he couldn’t help but notice– and it didn’t take much effort to, not even having to turn around– the clumsy stumbling of the usually stealthy lizard trying to duck for cover the moment he was in the hitman’s shadow.

Upon their latest encounter, Hit had been checking out of his latest job– a chain of kills in a five-star hotel’s chandeliered conference hall– with a lightly packed suitcase, the perfect size for a petit and starved Frost to sneak himself inside, contorted into an uncomfortable pretzel, and be taken back to the assassin’s apartment suite. He refused to explain his motives for running headfirst towards the man he feared most, whether it was desperation to die or simply wanting shelter in any way he could find it. 

Hit never told this story, else he’d be asked how he didn’t notice how his case was a lot heavier. He did notice, but he decided to let Frost think he had gotten away with it, rolled him all the way back home, and tried to feign surprise when he unzipped his luggage to find a sputtering and panting lizard in a cloak. 

Why he kept him around would be the next question and Hit went back and forth on his answer. Perhaps it was so he could keep him in close proximity when the contract went out… or maybe some form of inverse Stockholm Syndrome was kicking in. For whatever reason was convenient to him any particular day, he kept this skittish and bitey street cat of a stowaway on a very short leash.

Today, he took his leashed lizard on a walk. 

“Don’t expect this often. We’ll be in and out in a few minutes, just don’t start shit and keep your hood up. The last thing we want is your new face on the wanted posters instead of the old one- And I don’t want to have to drag that new mugshot home with me.”

“You wound me, assassin, thinking I can’t behave myself. ‘Sides, only way they’d know it was me is from you not keeping hush-hush.”

“Right. That too.”

“Then, might we use codenames?” That sly look was starting to form on Frost’s face, the one that was getting way too comfortable around the hitman and hid ulterior motives behind his lips. “In fact, I have a selection that I wouldn’t mind being called~”

“Or, I just don’t address you, how’s that sound?” The assassin simply muttered, ignoring the tease and shoving his hands in his pockets to keep himself level over it as he trudged ahead.

The lizard grumbled at being brushed off, tugging his noir cloak’s hood over his head to hide his cheeks slightly burning blue. However, he still followed Hit’s lead through the automatic doors that nearly snapped shut on the end of his tail and into…

…a bummy convenience store, typical ambience for these corners of the city. Vaguely sticky tile floors in colors trying to keep up with the neon decades and faltering overhead lights that showed its true age. Nothing new to Hit, but Frost was standing captivated as if he had walked into a candy store.

“Ah, usual cashier… Good.” Hit noticed from a quick glimpse of the surroundings before catching the lizard staring, waving a hand in front of him briefly to snap him out of his enamored glaze. “What? Never been in a corner store before?”

“Never with the lights on!”

Frost didn’t need to turn to see Hit’s disapproving glare. The hitman didn’t even comment before taking one of the gaudy green plastic baskets by the door and shoving it into his hands. “Here, you can grab a few things while I handle business up front, got it?”

The lizard let out a little huff of a laugh. “I guess I can call you a fair warden now– you’ll allow me a treat~?”

“...Quit acting like I’ve been starving you.” 

The two split off to their own devices, Hit approaching the counter as the cashier seemed to swallow nerves in exchange for a customer service smile.

“Ah, Hit! Man of the hour!” The cashier was oddly jovial towards the looming hitman. “What can I do for ya, eh?”

“Your job, if you would.” Hit’s hands rustled in his pockets, impatient. He tried not to look visibly distracted as he supervised Frost out of the corner of his eye– inspecting the magazine rack, as if still looking for himself on any of the covers despite his stardom being long gone. “You know I detest the small talk, though I must give you my thanks for the… recommendation last time.”

“No problem. You lookin’ to buy something?” 

Hit quickly fished a small bill out of his wallet. “Scratch off. ‘Lucky Sevens’, third hook, fourth card in.”

When one lived on hefty blood bounties, one had no need for these scratchers, let alone one ritually picked, but it worked well as a passcode to safely talk to his informant, who nodded, ‘happy’ to oblige.

The informant flicked through the cards long enough for the assassin to eye up Frost again, witnessing his giddily swaying tail disappointedly droop as he discovered that all of the ‘out of order’ lights were lit red on the ‘mystical’ ice slush machine before vanishing into the aisle shelves.

“And, your change, sir.” Hit’s attention was brought back as a small disc-shaped clicker, slightly bigger than any coin that could have come out of the register, was flicked his way. He caught it in a firm grip without missing a beat.

“Pleasure doing business. Now to wait for whatever he’s buying.”

“That scamp that came in with you? Never pegged you the type to tolerate that sort. Or anyone really.”

“...I guess tolerate is a way you could put it, yes.” Hit folded his arms, shutting his eyes meditatively to hide any meaning shining in them. 

“I don’t know, seems a bit young for you, doesn’t he?”

“...I’m over a thousand. Everyone is.”

The assassin was about to realize he was in the small talk loop he abhorred, only to be snapped out of it by Frost returning to the front, bumping into before leaning suspiciously– if that smirk was anything to go off of– against the counter with a filled basket. “You payin’?”

Hit took the basket from the lizard. “Really trying to make the most of my generosity, huh?” Floated to the top was a layer of clearly having something to hide, the healthy guise of a few protein granola bars and a low calorie yet unnaturally blue sport drink. However, it only took a second of rifling through to find the second layer of gummy worms, barbecue-coated corn nuts, and a sickeningly sugary can of soda.

He briefly pulled out the bag of rainbow worms, inspecting it with curiosity. “I never figured you were interested in stuff like this.”

“Eh, I guess it’s just ‘cause I missed out on ‘em for so long, I wanted to see what the hype was about. They wanted me cutting back on the sugar for the photoshoots, y'know.” Frost’s smile now looked plastered, feigning fondness for the ‘good times’ while it looked like there was a knife stabbed in his back.

Hit dropped the packet back into the basket along with the subject, setting the lizard’s haul onto the counter. “Is this everything?” He probed.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s everything. …Unless this is a last meal situation– in which case, I’d like a second basket.”

“I mean, is everything you grabbed in this basket?”

Frost huffed, offended. “You really think that low of me that I’d try to sneak something past you? Past this fine minimum wage employee?” As soon as the thought left his mouth, he promptly tried to twist it, squinting his eyes devilishly. “Unless this is some excuse to give me a patdown~”

Hit merely blinked, not buying into either act. “Just fan out your cape.”

The lizard acquiesced with an eye roll, spreading out his cloak like a bat’s wings. “See, nothing! I remain innocent–” As he curtsied to finish his defense, a small white carton tumbled out of one of the inner pockets, hitting the floor and creating a deafening silence. Frost instantly froze up as the assassin retrieved it from the ground, turning it over to identify it as a pack of cigarettes.

“Really now?” He glanced at the lizard disapprovingly.

Frost, in finding his voice again, managed to meagerly whimper out, “...I had that the whole time, I swear…” 

When Hit’s expression didn’t believe him, his voice ramped up in full. “Are you really going to judge me right now? Huh?! Is that what we’re doing?!”

Hit didn’t respond, simply, to Frost’s surprise, setting the box on the counter instead of putting it back. “If these ring up, I’ll pay for them.”

Out of defense for himself, Frost kept his mouth shut for the rest of the transaction and even as they stepped out of the store.

The assassin briefly turned to face the wall of a barren corner, fishing out the small token he’d received at the counter– his next batch of hits. He took a cursory flip through the holograms of freshly posted bounties and didn’t even realize he released a breath of relief at not spying any familiar draconic horns. 

By the time he turned around, Frost had already fished his pack of cigs out of the shopping bag, poising one of them between his fangs. “You got a light, hitman?” He asked, slightly muffled.

Hit’s hands sunk into his pockets, but they stayed there instead of retrieving anything. “Didn’t picture you one to smoke.”

The lizard huffed. “What? Did you just think my voice always sounded this stupid?”

“Well… Sometimes puberty can be cruel.” The comment only got the assassin an eyeroll. “Your supervisors didn’t let you have sugar, yet they let you have cigarettes?”

“Hey, sometimes you get skinny from these things. If anything, I was giving them what they wanted.” Frost snorted at his own jab before turning dead serious again. “Pissed them off as much as they pissed me off enough to start. Made me start cold turkeying off once they started sniffing my dressing room.” 

Briefly silent, the unlit smoke rolled across his teeth with his falling expression. “Anyway, I believe I asked you for a lighter, assassin.” The lizard looked patience-worn as he held out an expectant hand before Hit finally budged, retrieving a compact sparkwheel lighter– not kept for anything close to Frost’s reasons and metallic paint significantly scratched off of the plating with time– from his pocket and passing it over. Frost seemed to clutch it with desperation the moment it touched his palm.

“Didn’t think you’d actually have one, but, next time, don’t keep me waiting for your answer…” Flicking open the lighter top, he lit the end of the cig and took a big huff out. “I’d use my ki, but that’s a sure fire way to make the thing last all of five seconds.”

Frost went silent again, a long drag of smoke swirling up into a tall spire that thoroughly made itself Hit’s problem as well. Something about the reptilian was always tightly wound, but now his often tensed– even while wagging– tail seemed to completely melt… slow, sluggish, tiredly dragging along the ground. A bit irritating that he had to blow a cloud of smog to get this way.

Hit wasn’t in a position to ask what had made him turn back to them, if he’d supposedly been weaned off, knowing he’d probably claim his ‘pestering’ interrupting his smoke break was another reason why.

“Hey, what are you staring for?” The assassin was broken out of his speculation by Frost’s commentary. “You wanna steal?” He held out the worn down cig.

“No thanks. I’ve already quit.”

“I was kidding- you actually smoked these before?” The lizard looked back at him incredulously. “You being such a stick in the mud?”

“Different time back then. Quit because it was more trouble than it’s worth, even though my lungs are virtually bulletproof, unlike–”

“If you turn this into a nicotine speech, I will find a place to jam this…” Frost made a poking motion with his cigarette for emphasis.

“Message received. …And to be clear, I was only judging you back there for almost shoplifting.”

“So, you were judging me?”

“Not the point. Regardless, don’t expect me to buy you another pack when you’re done with those. We’ll find you something else.”

“Oh~” Hit had an uneasy feeling about the way Frost’s smirk curled around the tobacco in his mouth. “Something else to keep my mouth busy, huh~?”

The assassin quickly caught on to the entendre, any good humor hidden in his blankly stern expression wavering.

“That’s it, we’re cutting you off.” Grumbling, he pinched the cig down the middle, crunching it in half and leaving the cinder to hit the pavement.

“Hey!” Frost yowled, the unsinged yellow half falling out of his teeth.

“Relax, you have at least a dozen more. And didn’t I say I’d get you something else to take the edge off?”

“And what might that be?”

“Undecided as of yet.” Before he could shut his eyes meditatively again, he glimpsed down to see that the look of hint-hinting in Frost’s eyes had returned with his grin. “And not whatever you’re plotting with those ‘bedroom eyes’.”

“Hmph, jumping to conclusions much?”

“No, you’re just that see through.”

In an instant, Frost grabbed the edge of his hood, trying and failing to hastily tug it over his darkening face. “Hand me the lighter again, I think the kick is wearing off.” He muttered as he fumbled to, one-handed and vision obscured, pop another cigarette out of the carton, nearly dropping a few extra. 

“I just wish you’d pick some other habit.” Hit begrudgingly took the lighter back out and, frivolously using his Time Skip, caught what Frost was spilling millimeters before they hit the ground. “Preferably one without that odor. It makes you smell like all of my other targets.”

“Well, guess I’m going to fit the part once I’m finally on the list.” The lizard huffed as he relit his tobacco.

“...I suppose you would.” Hit murmured near inaudibly. He stashed the returned lighter back in his pockets along with his hands, less out of his usual habit and more hiding any unwanted tremor that he now felt in his fingers.

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So, I know Pride Month is over already. But I can’t help but be curious - what are your sexuality headcanons for the other Universe 6 members?

(it doesn’t necessarily have to be ALL of them, I mostly mean the memorable ones. Caulifla, Kale, Cabba, Mageta, and Botamo)

Never too late- in fact I absolutely believe in July Wrath Month. I actually did a post of these back in 2022, but I'm willing to revisit and add. Basically, if they don't have a blurb, old description applies. I have some notes in my Frost blog drafts on Frost and Hit, so I may post those at a later time and edit in the link.

--

Caulifla - Lesbian

Kale - Demi-Lesbian

Cabba - Bisexual

Also, I know you just asked sexualities, but I'm expanding it to identity and tacking on my headcanon that he's transmasc! He prefers not to bring it up, which leads to an unknowing-ally moment when both Caulifla and Vegeta mistake his top surgery scars for battle scars and consider them the mark of a warrior.

Magetta - Toric/NBLM

Gender is a vastly different concept for the Metalman race next to the rest of the universe, so he can be considered non-binary. He sticks with he/him pronouns due to them being the easiest of the common tongue pronouns to work with (he can understand Common, at least to some extent, just not speak it)- or rather, one assumption was made and that was the one that stuck.

Current affections point towards Botamo, who has pretty much been on his side day 1. Genuine care for his emotional well-being and isn't using him or his strength for any personal gain.

Botamo - Questioning

But, said questioning is to the point where it's pretty obvious he's not 100% straight. Quick to brush off things as "no homo" or "guys being dudes", eventually leads to "wait, is kissing the homies goodnight gay?". Closet is glass. Question is more of his exact orientation.

Saonel and Pirina - Alloromantic Asexual

Of course, the predictable Namekian answer. However, I don't think they're ruled out of romantic affection if they choose to seek it out. Potentially poly since they're each half of the entire Namekian race (this fact is still wild to me) unless they somehow found a way to split post-Tournament.

Dr. Rota...

He's actually the only cishet of the squad. He's trying to be an ally, though it's pretty much just because his main client (Frost) is gay.

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Quick, while it's still Pride Month, time to post pride flags color-picked from the alleyway scene

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I've been writing some longer drabblings, probably not as long as some of my much older one-shots, but I'd deem it one-shot range, about 2-3k words. I'm considering posting it on my AO3, but how should I handle the post for it on Tumblr?

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Gekishin Squadra isn't my type of game to play, but I'm definitely enjoying watching it from afar and it has some potential.

Playable Frieza. In-game costumes.

I know so far they've been for just the heroes, those who've had canonical outfit changes, but, come on, design team, don't be cowards. Give Frieza a snazzy little extra costume.

...Or, at the very least, give one to Caulifla.

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Where in the world is Hittou Sandiego?

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New Super-Era Kuriza Lore Drop

..although it shouldn't come as a surprise that there's going to be a contrast between father and son.

There's a definite uneasiness for Kuriza stepping into Frieza's shoes, especially with his more unethical methods. He's more all around diplomatic than Frieza's more militaristic. He doesn't really tap into the ruthless conqueror model.

There's still value in his method, but Frieza's methods are so ingrained in him from his own father's teachings that he never even questions that there's another way... only that deviation seems incorrect.

Kuriza is also not a warrior at heart. He inherits an above average for the species power level and can, for a time, keep up with Pan sparring-wise. His expertise is more defensive rather than seeking absolute power. He finds comfort in his First Form rather than tapping into the full strength of the Final.

The issue hangs more heavily in the air as he later develops an arthritic condition in his knees, limiting his physical fighting abilities, although he can rely on his ki abilities to get by.

Frieza never comments aloud, but Kuriza feels the insecurity nevertheless. Can he truly be the son his father "wants"?

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(reblogged to wrong blog so I'm bringing the tags over)

DRAGON BALL episode 148

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It got worse!

Checking DBS episodes and this one's description is just flooring me.

What is Frost doing? Wrong answers only.

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Checking DBS episodes and this one's description is just flooring me.

What is Frost doing? Wrong answers only.

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When people ask about what you're working on, and ask you to talk about your thoughts and process, and notice your nuances, and ask you to elaborate and explain and continue

You feel me?

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Random Drabble: Fish Tank - Piranha Inside

A small drabble I wrote awhile back, featuring a somewhat scrappier Z-Era Kuriza and an alternate reality where Frieza decides he can tag along for Namek, whether that's a good choice or not.

Timeline Placement: Age 762, Mid-Namek Arc

-- This is all becoming one giant mess… Frieza grumbled to himself, attempting to inebriate himself with a consolatory glass of wine. We lost the scouters, we lost Dodoria, and worse… this planet has a monkey pest problem too, trying to steal my wish… Right now, I don't want to hear a word unless it's good news-

"Papa?"

The emperor snapped out of his trance by a soft little whining behind him, his tail immediately cracking against the floor.

"Ah-! I'm sorry!"

Frieza tried to lighten his glare as he turned to face the voice- his son, Kuriza, had insisted on coming along with him to Namek, neither of them knowing that this venture would be this much of a shitshow. The father was initially apprehensive, claiming danger, but he supposed by eight the boy was ready for at least some observation experience.

During their regrouping, Kuriza sat back bored- well, now startled given the hard tail whip- leaning over one of the five Dragon Balls in the room; he was practically the same size as the orb.

"Oh, Kuri, that wasn't directed at you, Papa's just wound a little tight now." He set his glass down and kneeled down to his son's level. "There's really nothing you can help with at the moment, so if you're bored, I suppose the med bay wouldn't mind having you. Can you be out of Papa's way for just a bit? Please, dear?" There was an attempt at affection in his words, a contrast to his eye twitching.

Kuriza sighed, grumbling. "Fine."

"That's my chestnut~" Frieza left a quick peck at the center of his forehead, the boy briefly cringing from being coddled.

As Kuriza slunk off of the surface of the ball and made his way begrudgingly towards the door, Frieza added, "And if you see Mr. Zarbon return, tell him I need a word." The boy, back turned, only responded with a shrug.

I should've left him with his grandfather; he'll just be in the way…

Once out in the hall, Kuriza muffled the first relevant curse word he knew into the overfluffed collar of his navy cape. The med bay was a just as boring place to spend stewing and waiting for something to happen, if not more so. However, to his surprise, the med tank was full of fluid- and, in turn, holding a patient- with that purple grunt, Appule, attending to the controls.

Kuriza boosted himself to see over the next adjacent panel top, elbows on the counter and feet dangling above the ground. "So, who've we got in the gallows this time?"

Appule jolted at a sudden voice. "AH- Prince Kuriza!"

"Relax, I'm not laying on any of the buttons…" Sighing, Kuriza laid his head down on his folded arms. "Now, may I have the answer to my question?"

"Oh, of course. We have that Saiyan, Vegeta, in the tank right now, up for interrogation. Zarbon gave him a good beating for his mouth writing a check his body couldn't cash."

"Hmph…" Kuriza huffed, still partially transfixed on the med tank bubbling in jet columns. Watching it through glass was like watching an aquarium, albeit with less sea plants and corals… and the only creature inside being the deadliest catch: a Saiyan. "Serves him right being humbled like this, he always was a prissy little bitch."

The young prince's "vocabulary" still startled Appule, hearing such words from an eight-year-old, but he reminded himself that this was the son of a hot-tempered emperor, raised adjacent to a military barrack, so he dropped the thought and nodded. "Indeed, my prince."

However, a new wave of concern cropped up, as he noticed Kuriza inching up further onto the counter top to reach the glass pane of the tank, Appule praying none of the buttons he nearly grazed with his torso were too important. Then, as if tempting fate, he started tapping the outer dome of Vegeta's confinement, as if trying to startle a fish.

"Not. So. Smarmy. Now. Huh?" Kuriza teased with each poke, the firmness very telling, as if he had been waiting this whole time to be on top- what Vegeta had done to the boy was unknown to the footsoldier, but it may have been something as petty as calling him a "runt".

"Hey, don't do that, my prince!" Appule nearly paled, silently cursing Frieza for burdening him with this near-aneurism.

"What? I'm not gonna break it-" The prince's tail flicked a singular beat at noticing something- Vegeta's eyes had shot open, rippling the water around it. "Oh, looks like he's awake now!"

Despite Appule's accelerated fear, Kuriza remained smugly smirking. "Rise and shine, monke-" His confidence waned as Vegeta's enraged glare quickly locked on to him and more disturbances rumbled in the tank- bubbles roaring into foam, disguising a faint crackling sound…

"Prince Kuriza, get down!!"

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Random Super-Era Kuriza Headcanon #??? (Will they ever be numbered?)

Kuriza's emotional regulation attempts to mirror Frieza's early on, so he works himself out of crying from an early age. Whether that's a good thing is yet to be seen. Unfortunately, this in conjunction with a difficulty reading emotions in general leads him to misinterpret that crying is something that's meant to be grown out of, something only younger children do and he ends up coming off a bit "dickish" when he expresses this confusion.

Kuriza has issues with filtering in general. Even when he's trying not to say anything, his tail movement sometimes gives away that he's not being completely open.